Smashing Down the Door
by Buttshujinsama
Summary: Germany's logical mind is in open revolt, and he has a choice: put an end to this, or just go with it. After all, this IS Italy we're talking about. Just fluff, Germany/Italy.


_**Okay, I finally discovered Hetalia. And let me tell you, I wish I'd known about it before.**_

_**This just kind of clawed its way out of my brain, leaving behind a ragged, bleeding hole in the front of my skull. I figured I might as well put it here.**_

_**Quick warning: this particular piece of fanfic involves Germany/Ludwig, a dude, in love with Italy/Feliciano, (technically) also a dude. You know what to do if you don't like it.**_

_**As is common with most fanfiction writers, I own nothing.**_

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><p><em>The world is cold.<em>

_It's metallic, organized, cubical. It keeps perfectly clean, everything in its place. Everything is nice and neat and arranged at perfect 90 degree angles. It's also hectic; everything is busy, heading off to where it needs to be, taken there by singleminded, efficient, well-dressed people. That's how this system has worked for years. Perfectly._

_Suddenly, someone stops._

_This person was carrying something important to an important place (probably the Logic Center on the top floor), but has been distracted by something - he doesn't know what._

_He looks to his left and sees a closet in the corridor. Normally, he would just keep doing his job._

_Of course, he tries the handle. It's locked._

_At this point, most people would just walk away. Not him. He simply has to know what's behind that door, for some unknown reason. He can't understand it._

_Dropping the small brown box he was carrying, he turns the knob as hard as he can. It won't move. He thinks for a little while and suddenly dashes off, only to return moments later with a large iron post. He starts slamming it into the door._

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><p>Germany was standing on the porch outside his house, making sure Japan and Italy were still running as hard as they both could go. Italy, of course, was barely moving, complaining about lunch and his stomach and how they all needed to eat something.<p>

_Hmm. Italy_ is _a good cook..._

Okay. There was no harm in taking a small break to eat something. They'd go back to training immediately afterwards.

Germany called the two inside. Immediately, Italy dashed inside to snatch up ingredients from the refrigerator and a large pot from the cabinet, one he couldn't lift.

Feliciano looked up innocently. "Eh, this is heavy! Germany, could you help me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Ja, fine..."

He leaned over the smaller man and picked up the pot, placing it on the stove.

"Thanks!"

He has a really bright smile. It brings such warmth to the room, it's like the sun or something-

He shook his head. Where did that come from?

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><p><em>The man pounds on the door again, reverberating from the impact. The metal is barely starting to bend.<em>

_He stops for a moment. Why is he doing this? It doesn't make sense. It's perfectly silly, trying to bang through a locked door when there are more important things to do, and the stupid thing probably won't budge anyway. He picks up the package and moves off._

_Seconds later, he walks right back. Tossing the package over his shoulder, he takes the pipe again and keeps hitting the door._

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><p>"HEEEELP! Oh, please no, no, NO! NOT THE FACE! GERMANYYYYY!"<p>

He sighed. Italy needed saving. AGAIN. This was really getting old. Dragging himself away from his desk, he jogged outside.

"What is it this time?" He stopped. France was standing there, unabashedly hitting Italy in Germany's front yard. What the hell was he thinking?

Italy tried to explain.

"Ow! I was just walking and OW! I decided to look outside the OW! fence and then there was a OW! small cafe across the street and it looked so OW! nice I just had to go and look and then France OW! was one of the baristas and I didn't recognize him OW! and I ordered some coffee and he OWOWOWIE! and and now he's hitting me and OW! I don't like this at all, HEEEEELP!"

Of course, France ran away as fast as he could as soon as he saw Germany standing there in the doorway, leaving the little brunet sobbing on the ground.

Italy looked up and sniffed. "Ow," he whimpered, "my head really hurts..."

Sighing, the big blonde crossed the grass to where Italy was crouched on the ground and helped him up. Feliciano threw his arms around him.

"Th-thanks, Germany." He sniffed, eyes closed. "I feel better."

Meanwhile, Germany was feeling quite strange. He actually wanted to comfort the little Italian, for some reason, and he kind of liked it when they were this close. He patted the brunet's head, somewhat awkwardly.

Italy opened his eyes. "Hey, look! The sun's going down! I like watching the sunset. Let's go over there for a better view."

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><p><em>He's halfway through. He just has to find out what's inside. And then, he has an idea.<em>

_Calling a friend over to help, he keeps hammering away at the stubborn door. His friend calls another friend, who calls yet another. Before he knows it, he's surrounded by people who are all trying to break down that door._

_With a surge of hope, he hits the door again._

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><p>"Veh! That was really, really pretty!" exclaimed Italy, eyes wide.<p>

He does have very nice eyes.

"Maybe I'll paint it when we get back inside."

And they're shining in the last of the sunlight...

"It's starting to get cold out here- hey, look! The stars are starting to come out!"

Germany looked up to see the first pinpricks of light dotting the sky overhead. They glittered and shone, reminding him yet again of those eyes...

He was startled when Italy leaned on his arm. Small chunks of hair brushed against his neck, sending small chills up his spine. He would have shaken them off, but for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Suddenly, Italy shivered. "C-cold..."

Why did he wrap his arms around this annoying little wimp? It wasn't that cold. He'd be fine, right?

The evening wore on. Slowly, the two moved closer, until there just wasn't space between them to do so anymore. Absentmindedly, Germany started winding a finger through the Italian's hair.

He was shocked when Italy ran a small hand over his own golden hair.

"Mmm, soft."

"Er..."

"Germany?"

At that point, the larger country was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. The reason for this was that he was just so comfortable - it was hard to explain.

"Ja?"

"I like you."

Silence. Italy frowned.

"No, that's not quite right. It's different. You know, a big, strong country like you didn't have to take me in like this. It's very kind of you. I like it a lot. In fact..."

By then, the back of his neck was prickling strangely, and his stomach - unexpectedly, and most unusually - was doing somersaults, handstands, cartwheels. He couldn't take it anymore, and he realized something important.

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><p><em>Finally, they're almost there. One, two, three more strokes.<em>

_The door bursts inward, and the corridor is suddenly filled with warmth, laughter, golden light, and the heady scent of pasta. Everyone cheers, rushing headlong through the passageway and into the sunlight..._

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><p>"...you know what, I don't know how you'll take this, I'm kind of scared you'll hit me or something, but I'm really bad at keeping a secret and stuff like that, so here goes." Italy took a big breath, only to have his mouth blocked. He glanced upwards to find that it just happened to be Germany's mouth intentionally blocking his.<p>

"Don't you ever shut up?" Ludwig mumbled into his mouth.

Italy wasted no time in returning the kiss.

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><p><em><strong>Don't like it? Don't review. Simple.<strong>_

_**However, if you have any ideas or corrections, review and tell me, unless you have something really important to do *cough*WATCHINGMOREHETALIA*cough*.**_


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